


Slipstream

by glim



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Academia, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Co-workers, Cuddling & Snuggling, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Romance, Workplace Relationship, vague anglo-american academic setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 10:24:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7432659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glim/pseuds/glim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Being around Merlin makes Arthur feel uncertain, unsteady, and while there is a headiness about it, Arthur rather wants some assurance that if he asks, Merlin will say yes.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slipstream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coffeejunkii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeejunkii/gifts).



> For Coffeejunkii, for the prompt "Do you think I'm worried about that? Just get some rest..."
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you to my beta <3

Even though there is only one week left before the fall term starts, the English department office is almost as empty as it was in the middle of the summer. The final summer session has come to an end and, Arthur thinks as he listens to a small group of parents and high school students meander down the hall, the fall tour groups have not yet really started up. The hush of summer still holds most of the university in its grasp, quiet classrooms and near empty dormitories. 

Arthur gathers up the few pieces of mail that have settled in his box over the past week and walks over to the desk at the center of the office. 

"I need to reserve--" Arthur stops when he notices he's not talking to the department secretary, but to Merlin. "Have you changed positions in the department again?"

Merlin, who's busy fiddling around with something in his Google calendar and who only looks up at Arthur after he's color-coded the first two weeks of September. "What can I do --? Oh, hi, Arthur, it's you. And, god, no, this department would fall apart if they let me do administrative work."

"Who let you out of your office, then?" Arthur nods toward the open door at that back of the main office that leads to the department chair's office. "Or did you break you air conditioner? Again?"

"Oh, that was awful, I think I actually spent most of that week out here. Freya still hates me for messing up her index card collection. Speaking of -- she's out on vacation this week, and Lance is helping out, but he's at a meeting... What?"

Arthur frowns at Merlin. "Lance is my secretary. You stole my secretary." 

Merlin went back to tooling with his calendar. "He is not your secretary. He's the administrative assistant for the writing program and the undergraduate program. Only half of that is under your aegis."

"Did you just use the word 'aegis' at me?" No longer able to keep the frown on his face, Arthur sighs and leans against the counter. "Can you switch over to the department calendar?"

"Yes, I did. I have an excellent vocabulary..." Merlin clicks from his calendar to the version of the department one he keeps saved, and turns to Arthur. "Right. What do you need? Or are you here to annoy me again?"

"I never annoy you. I need to reserve the seminar room," he continues, ignoring Merlin's laugh, "for the Tuesday or Thursday of the first week of the semester." 

"Hmm... for what? Don't you usually do meetings in the writing center?"

"It's for all the first-year writing instructors. They won't all fit in the center."

"More writing classes every year," Merlin murmurs as he logs Arthur's reservation. His glasses slip down his nose as he types and Arthur can't help but notice how his hair's a little bit too long, how it nearly covers his ears now, and how he's wearing jeans with a short sleeve, button up shirt, plaid, unbuttoned, over a grey tee shirt. 

He looks ridiculous, really, with his rumpled hair and open shirt and his silver wire-framed glasses slipping down his nose again immediately after he pushes them back up. He looks a little too young to be the chair of the English department, and Arthur quashes the feeling inside that almost wants to think of Merlin's messy hair and summertime casual clothes as endearing.

Besides, he's about four or five years older than Arthur, who's finally had to admit he's past the point where he can say he's in his early thirties. Which makes Merlin old enough and tenured enough and more than experienced enough to do the job. 

"There. I put you in for Thursday, and Lance will send you something official so nobody interrupts your tea and rhetoric. Not that I think anyone would bother. Sorry," he says when Arthur scowls. "Anyway, I'll be there. I was given the gift of first-year comp to teach this semester." 

"You are in a rare mood today." Arthur leans over the desk to peer down at where Merlin's pointing to on the computer screen. "Maybe we should put you on the desk more often." 

Merlin laughs again, but it's almost fond this time, and he shakes his head. "I got in trouble earlier today for using an emoticon, so, yeah, no, it's not happening. Are you on your way on or off campus now?"

"On, I suppose. I need to go revise a syllabus, and stop at the library. Why?"

Merlin shrugs. "We could have lunch. Together."

"We could," Arthur agrees. "I'll come back down here around noon." 

Arthur doesn't realize until he's in his office, coaxing his own antique air conditioner into working, that Merlin did the very thing that Arthur had spent most of the spring semester trying to work up the nerve to do and finally let go of as hopeless: asked him out for a non-business lunch. 

*

The lunch turns out to be exactly that: lunch. They go to a cafe a few blocks off campus and eat sandwiches and drink coffee and talk about their summers. Merlin went to one conference on Medieval studies in Michigan, and another in England, and then decided he'd done enough conference work for the year. Arthur talked a little about the article he had coming out in a few months, but mostly, he found he wanted to listen to Merlin talk. 

Part of him was disappointed that the lunch was not, in fact, a date. But part of him--a much bigger part of him--was pleased that it was not.

Mostly because Arthur wanted so badly to ask Merlin out first. 

It's not that Arthur's shy, it's that he doesn't like to be uncertain, and acting with any uncertainty is something that he almost always avoids. Being around Merlin makes him feel uncertain, unsteady, and while there is a headiness about it, Arthur rather wants some assurance that if he asks, Merlin will say yes. 

That reassurance surfaces at the end of their lunch, when Merlin touches Arthur's hand, a second-long light touch, and says, "Would you like--"

"--to take you out to dinner," Arthur interrupts, lest he lose his chance, and catches Merlin's fingers against his own before they fall away. "I would like to do that. Would you?"

Merlin laughs and nods. "I'm free Friday. Or did you want to decide? Or is this competitive dating?"

"You're ridiculous," Arthur says. "Friday is fine." 

*

What Friday turns out to be is too far away. 

Arthur spends Tuesday evening at the gym working through his and Merlin's lunch conversation and remembering the way Merlin smiled at him. The way he'd smiled back, so easily. 

Wednesday, Arthur has no reason to be on campus, but he ends up texting Merlin enough times that he might as well be there. Merlin sends him a running commentary of the questions he attempts to answer while sitting at the department office's front desk, and then sends Arthur a series of random pictures of his dog after he gets home. 

By Thursday, Arthur can't keep himself away. He's waited since January, since he found out that the long distance relationship Merlin had been in for the past few years had come to an end the summer before. He's worked with Merlin for five years now, and knowing that Merlin was single, maybe available, had unsettled something inside him. 

He hasn't been waiting for Merlin for five years, hasn't been longing for him, because he'd pushed those feelings away after the first few weeks. He'd put his hope away, folded it up inside, and only let it unfold, bit by bit, as this year progressed. 

He can't wait until Friday. 

So Arthur texts Merlin early on Thursday, asks if he'll be in his office, puts his tablet and a couple books in his bag, and wears an outfit he hopes looks handsome enough for a semi-impromptu first date.

He spends the morning in Merlin's quiet, cool office, reading sprawled out on the sofa while Merlin works at his desk, drinking iced coffee, and listening to Merlin talk his way through the syllabus he's revising. 

Merlin's filled his office with what looks like every book from his academic career: Latin and Roman history from his undergrad major, numerous editions of Chaucer and Langland and everything else from his master's through doctoral work in Medieval literature. He's started buying works on late antiquity again, and there's a stack of new books at the back on his desk on Medieval Latin and what, to Arthur, looks like the collected poetical works of the Byzantine world. 

The quiet is reminiscent of the library, but Merlin's office is more relaxed, exemplified by the stacks of books and Merlin himself, who puts his feet up on his desk while he reads and who keeps pictures of his dog and his cousin's kids on his desk. 

Arthur's work is in writing, in rhetoric and composition, in how to frame language to express thoughts and emotions. He'll probably never read a fraction of the books here, but he finds he likes their company. 

"Can you proofread this for me?"

Arthur turns his attention from the shelves to Merlin, who's taken off his glasses and is running a hand through his already rumpled hair. "Sure... you can email it to me."

"Right." Merlin squints at the computer screen rather than put his glasses back on. "Sent it to your work email."

"Are you sure? You look like can't even see the screen. Ah, no, here it is. You're not completely blind without your glasses." 

"Hardly," Merlin says. "Can you check for typos? And anything that sounds confusing."

Arthur read on his tablet for a few minutes. "This looks painful. How many saints' lives are you reading?" 

"You only say that because you're not a literature person. Besides," Merlin adds, leaning back in his chair and stretching, "the seminar's on Pain and Suffering in the Middle Ages, so that's apt." 

Arthur groans, and lets his gaze flick from the syllabus to Merlin, to the way his tee shirt rides up over his stomach to reveal a glimpse of pale skin and dark hair. He's handsome in that slim, strong, yet fair masculine way Arthur's never been able to resist. Tall, thin, dark hair and bright eyes. 

"I'm going to highlight the few typos I found... and the one sentence in the course description I find confusing." Arthur works while he talks, takes a few minutes to mark the revisions, and puts his tablet down after he emails Merlin his syllabus back. "There. It's fine."

"Thanks." Merlin smiles, but doesn't turn back to his computer or put his glasses back on. "It's nice," he says, "working with you in here. I wasn't sure I'd finish that this morning, but..."

"I'm a good influence?"

"Something like that." 

Arthur stands up from the sofa, walks over to Merlin's desk, and rests his fingertips on the edge. "I know we had plans for tomorrow night," he says, and when he sees uncertainty or disappointment flicker in Merlin's eyes, he rushes to add, "but let me take you out today. For lunch. I don't want to wait," he admits. 

"Oh. Oh, that's-- I thought --" Merlin shakes his head. "I don't know what I thought."

"Are you thinking, maybe, yes?"

"I am." He checks his watch. "Do you mind if I go home first? I don't have any meetings this afternoon, but I came in early enough that I should let the dog go run around for a while. Especially I'm out for the afternoon?"

"You very well might be."

"Come with me. I'll drive," Merlin says. "Or you can drive to my house, and we'll decide from there?"

Because Arthur had no set plans aside from wanting to spend the rest of the day with Merlin, and wanting to see him smile and touch his hands and kiss him (and kiss him, at least a dozen times over, he's waited long enough for that), he agrees. 

And because Arthur has no plans, it doesn't matter that they spend an hour outside with Bailey, tossing an assortment of sticks and a tennis ball around the yard for him, and laughing when the dog decides he's more fond of Arthur at the moment than of Merlin. 

"He's really friendly," Arthur says, bending down to ruffle the dog's ears. 

"Yeah, gets him in trouble sometimes. But he was the sweetest little ball of fluff at the shelter... The smallest, too. I had to bring him home."

"And name him after a character in Chaucer?"

 

"Of course. Go get your ball," Merlin says and nudges Bailey with his foot to go back to Arthur and fetch his tennis ball. "Do you like dogs?"

"Sure. I had cats growing up, but... I like both."

"Good." Merlin nods his approval and Arthur feels such happiness gather inside him that he persuades Merlin to let Bailey have ten more minutes of playtime outside. 

*

Arthur drives them to a small restaurant about twenty minutes from campus that serves well-made though not remarkable food and rather exquisite lunchtime cocktails. They eat outside at small round table, more next to than across from each other, and Arthur nudges his plate closer when Merlin asks if he can try the cobb salad. 

Merlin glances at Arthur, momentarily shy, then stabs some lettuce and chicken from Arthur's plate. "It's good.."

"Mm. I like eating here--it's quiet, and not too far from work." 

Merlin makes a sound of agreement, and leans in against Arthur as he reaches for his drink. They're only having wine with lunch, but Arthur's made sure to get them something quite good. 

"But far enough," Merlin says. He takes a drink from his glass, then another, then lets his shoulder nudge against Arthur's when he puts it back down. "So you like good food and expensive drinks. What else? Oh," Merlin says, "you run marathons, I remember." 

Arthur feels warmth flush over his face. He doesn't talk about his running that much at work, but enough that Merlin remembers. "I do. Running, swimming..."

"Hiking?" Merlin asks and if Arthur's not wrong, he looks hopeful. 

"Possibly. With the right person." 

Merlin glances away, a fetching half-smile on his lips, and turns back to pick up his wine glass again. "Or the right dog? You could come with Bailey and me. I know some nice trails for the autumn." 

"I could do that. So, it's dead languages and outdoorsy sports for you?" 

"That's... actually, that's true." 

Before they're finished with lunch, Arthur discovers that Merlin's attempting to grow a garden, enjoys walking his dog at absurdly early hours of the morning, and likes a good amount of the same movies and music that Arthur does. They make tentative plans to go hiking together in October and to look at the university's film festival listings for the fall semester together. 

Every time their shoulders or fingers brush against each other at the table, Arthur has to quell the urge to press closer to Merlin, to put his head on Merlin's shoulder or lace his fingers between Merlin's and hold his hand closer. 

Merlin seems so easily affectionate, though. He leans in against Arthur to peer at the bill, and rests his hand atop Arthur's as he calculates the tip, as he won't let Arthur cover that, too. 

"But I asked you out," Arthur says, frowning a bit.

"Ah, so it _is_ competitive dating." Merlin touches Arthur's wrist. "Look, why don't we both leave a tip? We've certainly been here long enough to merit that." 

Arthur's quite sure if Merlin's hand weren't so sure and strong atop his own that he would probably insist he pay for everything, but, well, there it is: he's already enamored of the way Merlin touches him and presses in close so that only Arthur can hear what he's saying. 

It's no surprise, then, that Arthur finds himself stroking Merlin's hair and the side of his face almost as soon as they get back to the car. Merlin sighs and leans closer, puts his hand on Arthur's knee, and they are kissing before Arthur has a chance to wonder if they will. 

They're in a parking in the middle of the afternoon, and all Arthur can think about is how deeply and eagerly Merlin kisses him. Mouth closed and gentle at first, then even more firmly, his hand still on Arthur's knee. 

"I've been waiting to do that," Merlin says when he pulls away. He leans in close again almost immediately and kisses Arthur quickly on the lips. 

"Not as long as I have," Arthur admit, almost to himself, and feels himself flush again when Merlin presses a soft kiss to his cheek. 

"I think we ought to go out again tomorrow."

*

It's the last, long lazy evening of the summer and Merlin decides they need to eat dinner outside, go on a long dog walk, get ice cream, and then sit outside again and listen to music and drink beer. 

"I'll take you out next time. You can get dressed up and wear a necktie. I know you like doing that." 

Arthur puts his drink down and slips both arms around Merlin, who's sprawled out next to him on the garden bench, head on Arthur's shoulder, and nuzzles into Merlin's hair. "Well, I do. I like wearing a suit."

"Hm. I like when you wear a suit, too." Merlin looks up at him, smiles, and kisses Arthur's shoulder. "Fancy restaurant it is. Next weekend, maybe." 

"Unless we're both exhausted from the first week of teaching. Then take-away and an early Friday night."

"Sounds fantastic." 

"Completely romantic," Arthur says, but he can't help but want that, too. Merlin curling up next to him on the sofa, eating takeaway from containers and sharing each other's food, watching mindless television until they both doze off from too much food and wine and work. 

Maybe Merlin would curl closer to him and actually fall asleep, end up spending the night by accident, and then they could -- 

Well. Arthur's not sure. The image in his mind is hazy and pleasing, sharing body heat and waking up together, and whatever happens in between will happen. 

"You can plan on buying me Thai food next Friday, then," Arthur says, not too hopefully. "And I promise I'll keep my suit and tie on until you show up with dinner." 

"You want to win that dating competition with your fancy lunch cafe." Merlin's quiet for a minute, then he sits up better and looks at Arthur. "I would like that, though. Coming over to your place at the end of that first hectic week of the semester." 

The night is clear and calm, and the soft, acoustic music Merlin put on his phone seems to float around them. It's the perfect summer evening, just warm enough, quiet enough, dark enough, with the last of the sunset fading around them. Arthur's senses feel just blurred enough, too, from the night air and the alcohol, that Merlin's closeness is intoxicating. He smiles as Merlin leans in to kiss him, pulls away slightly to draw Merlin to him, and smiles as Merlin chases him with another kiss. 

"Next Friday, too?"

"Yes," Arthur says, and tries not to think of his wish for all the Fridays after next, too. 

*

The first week of the semester is as hectic as Arthur predicted. He has meetings scheduled every day of the week, and two on Wednesday, as he finds himself volunteered for the library committee. 

"But... don't they already have a faculty members from Arts & Sciences?" Arthur flips through the packet he found in his mailbox informing him of his new position Tuesday morning. 

"Yes? I mean, yes, they do." Merlin hands him another paper, this one announcing the department's fall picnic. "But she's in biology, and they wanted somebody from humanities, too."

"So you volunteered me?"

"It's only once a month. It'll look good on your C.V." 

"I think that only means you couldn't find anyone else to do it." 

"Possibly." Merlin slides the flyers into the wall of mailboxes. "If it's really too much, let me know."

"It's not. I can do it."

"I know. But... tell me anyway. We can get somebody else and the two of you can alternate months." 

"It should be fine, really. But, thanks," he adds, knowing that Merlin's not doing him a favor, that he'd do it for any of the staff in his department. Arthur looks at the picnic flyer to hide the fondness that's fighting to show on his face. "This... actually looks good. You didn't do the flyer this time, did you?"

Merlin levels a glare at Arthur over his glasses. "No, but I didn't do the last one either, so I think you should all forget the time I tried to be creative. Lance did it."

"Stealing my secretary again."

"Administrative assistant. And that's only because you have no real work for him to do." Merlin rests his hand at the center of Arthur's back after he's finished with the flyers. "Do you have a meeting today?"

"I have a meeting everyday. I can't imagine your schedule looks better."

"Business lunches with every possible person," Merlin says. He must have one today, too, because he's wearing slim-cut trousers and a shirt and tie, navy blue and a muted silver-grey. When he catches Arthur looking at him, he goes bashful and glances aside. "Dean's lunch today," he murmurs. 

Arthur gives a nod of approval, waits until he's up in his office to text Merlin about how handsome he looked today, and waits until he's on his way home that evening to think about Merlin as much as he wants. 

He probably thinks about it a bit too much, about how sharp Merlin looked, about the angle of his shoulders and his hips, but it gets Arthur through his evening run when otherwise he would've been tempted to drop onto the sofa and fall asleep there. 

Arthur does end up on his sofa, though, Tuesday and Wednesday night, tired and damp from his shower, texting with Merlin about various parts of their day. He gets a video of Bailey chasing a squirrel through the yard, and sends Merlin some of the pictures he'd taken in the park at the end of his run. 

He falls asleep thinking that yes, yes, _this_ is how it should be. It doesn't have to be different or exciting all the time, and it doesn't have to be a competition of any kind. 

It can be this: Arthur, dozing off on his sofa, pleased to know that Merlin is thinking about him, too. 

*

"Can you get the schedule done today? All the tutors should've given you their availability." Arthur leans against Lance's desk and looks at the Writing Center calendar that they've cobbled together. "If we need somebody at noon on Wednesday, I could probably fill in..." 

"No, no, don't let Arthur do it." Sitting next to Lance at his desk and looking at the calendar on Arthur's iPad, Gwen shakes her head. "He'll do it for free, when we have enough funding this year to pay grad students and peer tutors."

"What about your doctoral student? She's teaching two courses, but..."

"Elaine already has four hours..." Lance switches between the spreadsheet and calendar and shows Arthur the working schedule he has on both. "But I could give her another to fill the Wednesday spot?"

"Well, wait and see. Gwen and I will go through the schedule today and see who we need to move around." Arthur loosens his necktie and glances over at Gwen. "Your office? Or did you want to work in mine with the air conditioner from last century?"

"Mine, I think, since you put it that way." She collects her things, and stacks the contact cards from the First-Year Writing Program meeting that afternoon, and hands Arthur his iPad back. 

"So," Gwen says as they walk to her office, "I was going to invite you over for drinks tomorrow night to celebrate surviving the first week, but a little bird told me you might already have plans."

"Hm. Is that little bird the department chair? He can't keep a secret..." 

"Oh! Is it a secret?"

Gwen looks worried enough that Arthur has to laugh. "No, it's not. I didn't think-- Well. I don't know. When did he tell you?"

"By accident when I invited him over after the Dean's lunch."

"You went to the Dean's lunch with Merlin? First he steals my secretary, and now my favorite colleague." Arthur doesn't laugh this time, though he's very tempted to when Gwen does. "No, see, you can't be his favorite colleague when you're already mine. Besides, you're the only other comp professor in our department, I can't lose you. You'll be reading Old English soon, too," he adds mournfully.

"I sincerely doubt that. You know the more dead and more white they are, the less I'm interested." Gwen bumps her shoulder against Arthur as they stop at her office to unlock the door. "Anyway, I promise I'll only be your favorite colleague."

"As it should be." Arthur ignores Gwen's expectant look as long as he can before caving. "We're having dinner together. It's just dinner. A dinner --"

"-- date," Gwen supplied the word for him, "most people call this sort of thing a date."

"Fine," Arthur says, and wonders at the feeling of saying it aloud for the first time, "I have a date with Merlin tomorrow night." 

*

"The best date you've never been out on," Merlin says when he shows up at Arthur's flat with food, wine, and an absurdly pleased expression on his face.

"I can't say the competition is fierce. I think this might be the first date I've been on where I didn't even need to leave my own house." He leads Merlin to the kitchen, puts the takeaway on the counter, and gets out dishes. 

"Really?" Merlin puts the wine down to lean in and kiss Arthur when he shrugs. "Hm, there might be more in your future, then." He rests his hands on Arthur's chest and smoothes the red and gold stripe tie Arthur still has on from work. "You look very handsome."

"At least I'm dressed for a dinner date," Arthur murmurs into another kiss.

"Hmm... You have that rumpled professor look going on. You do that really well." 

Merlin pulls back from Arthur. He has on a white button up shirt and jeans, and it takes Arthur a moment to realize it's not what he'd been wearing at work earlier. He looks relaxed, a little tired, hopeful. And, Arthur cannot help but appreciate, he smells amazing, like light, fresh, cologne and clean, warm skin. 

"That's high praise coming from the most rumpled academic I know." Arthur kisses Merlin gently on the lips, keeping a breath between them so he can feel Merlin's mouth move against his. Then he kisses him again, both hands at Merlin's hips, so he can feel Merlin's body move against his, too. 

"I looked very smart this week," Merlin says, and he sighs when Arthur presses in closer to kiss him more firmly. "Oh. I've been wanting this. You. All this."

"Me, too. Too much time at work." 

Merlin makes a noise of agreement and reaches up to loosen Arthur's necktie, then slide it off when Arthur gives him space to do so. He kisses Arthur's jaw line, murmurs a few more kisses along his skin, and nuzzles against the side of his neck. "You feel good. I knew you'd feel good, and I've been wanting to find out..." 

Arthur tips his head back with a shaky exhale. It's been ... Fuck, he doesn't even want to think about how long it's been. Since he let somebody get this close to him this quickly, since he let himself relax and not worry that this wasn't the right person. Since he let himself get pulled along by his own wants and desires, by somebody else's desire for him, too.

Because it's Merlin. He knows, he's foolishly aware that he's been wanting the right person to be Merlin, only Merlin, and that's he's been wanting that for at least all of this long year. 

After he's made Arthur's breath go unsteady again, Merlin drapes his arms over Arthur's shoulders and rests his forehead against Arthur's. "Can we eat dinner on the sofa? I hope I brought enough wine..."

"Yes, we can," Arthur brushes his nose against Merlin's. "And I think you did." 

Merlin returns the nuzzling, changes it to a kiss, and indulges in a few more minutes of quiet kissing in the kitchen before they're ready to bring dinner into the living room. 

Arthur finds a film on television for them to watch, but he keeps the sound low, more interested in hearing about Merlin's week, and listening to him talk about his graduate seminar and his master's students' research projects and his own ideas about the material they're all reading. 

He tells Merlin about the panel he's chairing at the MLA conference that year, and explains that, no, writing about writing is not actually a way to avoid doing 'real' writing. 

"I have an article coming out in about a month that I think is actually quite good, but I'm so tired of thinking about it." Arthur leans his head back against the sofa cushions. They've shared the noodles, tofu and veg, and chicken stir-fry Merlin brought over, and have made their way through almost two bottles of wine. Arthur feels tired and happy. "Do you even like superhero films?" he asks, with a nod toward the television. 

"Sort of? When I want to watch something I don't need to pay complete attention to. There's m important things tonight, for example," he says. 

Empty glass placed on the coffee table with the dishes and wine bottles, Merlin sits back on the sofa close enough to Arthur that their shoulders, hips, and knees touch. He slides his arm around Arthur's shoulder effortlessly, but glances at him with a shy, questioning look before he tugs off his glasses. 

Right before Merlin leans in to kiss him, Arthur reaches up to touch Merlin's face, to cup his palm over the sharp curve of his cheekbone and brush the pad of his thumb over Merlin's lips. His eyes are a clearer blue without his glasses, and there's a dusting of freckles over his nose and cheeks from the summertime sun. 

For a moment, Arthur dwells on how strange and wonderful it is to be this close to Merlin, to have him this near that he can see Merlin like this, that he's allowed to see Merlin like this, and that Merlin, too, has chosen to be this close to him, skin and breath and lips and lingering moments between them. 

Arthur brushes his thumb over Merlin's mouth again, light and ticklish enough to make Merlin tremble, then leans in to kiss his parted lips. Merlin's gentle with him, too, but only for a minute, then his soft touches and whispers become hungry kisses and low sounds of pleasure. 

It's past midnight before Arthur realizes they've spent the whole evening together on the sofa, all kisses and heated touches, and they're both beyond tired. He thinks he'll have to persuade Merlin to stay, but Merlin nods and kisses him again, and offers to sleep on the sofa. 

Arthur doesn't care if he's still a little drunk or completely exhausted or even already taken with Merlin, he says no, and tugs Merlin back to the bedroom. 

Only when he wakes up the next morning, Merlin sprawled out over the bed and half over him, that Arthur realizes how taken he is. 

* 

Saturday morning, Arthur brings Merlin coffee and toast in bed, compliments him on his ridiculous bed hair, and promises to take him out to brunch. 

"Or maybe lunch," he says, when Merlin pulls him back into bed. 

"Maybe lunch." 

Merlin maps his hands over Arthur's chest, strokes down to his stomach, makes a throaty sound of appreciation and call him 'quite fit.' 

"I try..." Arthur arches into the touch, and gives a gasp of surprise when Merlin's hand slips lower. 

"... so this is what it's like dating a younger man," he murmurs, then looks up to kiss Arthur. "... too soon?" He kisses Arthur again when he shakes his head. 

"First, I think you're all of four years older than I am. And... no." Arthur closes his eyes against the sudden shyness. He's been half-hoping for this, he can't deny that. "It's been a while, though."

"An inexperienced younger man," Merlin teases. He kisses Arthur quietly on the lips though, and before Arthur can meet that with a retort, he keeps on kissing him. 

And kissing him, and pressing closer, so that his hands and lips explore Arthur's body with such sweet precision that Arthur cannot help but surrender.

*

Merlin takes Arthur out for brunch, orders them tea, eggs, sweetbreads, and fruit, and keeps his hand in Arthur's until their food arrives. 

They look smug and couple-ish, Arthur knows, and he basks in it, and when their food is set down on the table they both realize they're hungry enough to focus more on that than each other. 

"Come back to mine?" Merlin asks before they settle the check. 

"Dog walk?"

Merlin nods and smiles. "Come with us." 

Arthur says yes and, because he knows it'll make Merlin smile even more broadly, he lets Merlin cover the whole check. 

*

The next couple weeks pass in a blur; classes are still new, students are still adding and dropping courses, and the Writing Center still has final revisions to be made to the tutoring schedule. 

Arthur tries to savor them, though, those first few weeks of the new semester. The fall term holds a crispness, a newness that never seems to surface at the start of the spring term, which tends to get mired in the grey chill of winter. He parks in the faculty lot a few buildings away from the English department to enjoy the lingering summer during the early mornings and mellow afternoons. 

*

Though their teaching schedules are almost opposite, Merlin and Arthur both have classes on Friday afternoons. This Friday, Arthur's waiting for Merlin outside the graduate reading room, holding the half-dozen volumes Melin's checked out of the library for his own research. He starts to read the introduction to the first one, decides it's too literary for the end of the week, and instead flips through the book on early Byzantine art.

"Sorry," Merlin says when he appears after fifteen minutes. "I thought of something else I needed to add." 

"I'll carry them." Arthur pulls the books away from Merlin when he reaches to take them from Arthur. 

"What a prince," Merlin says. He's teasing, though, and he grins at Arthur as they walk through the rotunda to the exit. 

"I think my mom's only ever called me that, and rarely." Arthur replies. 

Merlin stops and scrutinizes Arthur. "Spoiled only child?"

"Maybe. A bit. And you? Sisters or brothers?"

"No, but I've enough cousins the same age that I'm definitely not spoiled in my family. I have to remember to bring those books for my baby cousins this weekend, by the way. The ones I got at the used shop."

"What time are you leaving?" Arthur stops at the intersection of the walking paths on campus. They'd both probably bought too many books at that shop, but at least Merlin has an excuse for all the children's books he'd fallen in love with. "Car? Or office?"

"Car. Early tomorrow morning. I'm going to try and get some work done tonight, then I should be able to come back here Monday morning." 

Arthur carries the books to Merlin's car, gives him a quick kiss goodbye, and is both pleased, and not pleased, to have the weekend to himself. It's a good feeling, though, to know he'll miss Merlin, and, also, to know that he'll be glad for the time to himself. 

*

Monday morning, a few minutes after eight-thirty, Merlin drops down into the seat across from Arthur's desk, the one usually reserved for students, and rubs his face. He's not teaching today, so he's probably in the clothes he wore on the drive back home. "Anything interesting?" he asks. "You should have a couple from me." 

Arthur shakes his head. He's scrolling through his email, flagging what looks important, and ignoring the rest for the moment. "Graduate student research reception Thursday. Department meeting Wednesday?"

"Meeting Wednesday. We'll do a quick thing after the research presentations for the grad students. Cheese and crackers and fruit. Coffee, maybe?" 

When Arthur glances away from his email, Merlin's still rubbing his face and drooping in the seat, looking like he wants to close his eyes and curl up. He yawns, then coughs, and makes a tired sound that makes Arthur want to get up from his own seat and start rubbing Merlin's shoulders. He holds himself back, though, not sure if a few weeks of dating is long enough to merit back rubs and concerned murmurs at work.

"It's only Monday afternoon, and we've only been back for what? Three weeks? You look exhausted." 

Merlin tries to glare at Arthur, but ends up taking off his glasses and pressing the heel of one hand into his left eye. "I spent all weekend helping my mum move boxes for the shop." He pauses, and waves away Arthur's look of concern. "I'm fine. I think I'm getting a cold, that's all." 

"You're as bad as my first-year writing classes. They're all starting to cough and sniffle at each other." Arthur scrolls through the rest of his email, flags a few more messages he knows he'll need to read more closely, and swivels his chair to face Merlin. "You really do look shattered. How early were you up this morning?" 

"Around five. And thanks." Instead of putting his glasses back on, he rests them on Arthur's desk and loosens his tie. "You don't mind if I sit in here for a few minutes? You can work..."

"Of course I don't mind. I can't imagine you're more comfortable here than in your office, though. You have that nice chair," Arthur points out.

"Hmm." Merlin crosses his arms over his chest and slouches back in the seat, and lets his eyes fall shut. "I also have a full inbox and at least two people trying to get me to solve their problems. I only need a few minutes." 

"You can have as many as you need." 

"Only five. Maybe ten." 

Arthur watches Merlin for a little bit, then goes back to his computer. He opens up the discussion board for one of his first-year sections, reads a few of the entries, then looks back at Merlin. Who still looks both incredibly uncomfortable and incredibly tired, but not asleep. He shifts in the chair, coughs against his shoulder briefly, and resettles himself once more. 

A few more entries and five more minutes, then Arthur has to look over at Merlin again. It's not that he can't concentrate on his work with Merlin around--they've been working together in each other's offices or at one of the cafes in town quite a bit recently. It's more that he can't seem to focus on work with Merlin there when Merlin's obviously not feeling good. 

Before he can think twice about it again, Arthur stands up from his desk, walks over to Merlin, and puts his arms around Merlin. Merlin makes a pleased sound, so Arthur leans down to kiss his hair, then his forehead, and then his lips when Merlin tips his head back. "Why don't you go home and get some rest? You don't have a seminar tonight?"

Merlin shakes his head and leans back against Arthur. "Too much paperwork. And emails to answer. I need to start organizing that undergraduate honors conference." He gives a little groan after that and closes his eyes again. 

"Get done what you can. I'm not teaching tomorrow, I can help you out." Arthur touches his nose and lips to Merlin's hair, not really kissing him again, but staying close. Tuesday's are usually his reading, writing, and going to the gym days, but he wouldn't mind coming onto campus tomorrow to help Merlin, especially if he's not feeling well. 

Merlin makes another small, uncertain sound, and Arthur can see him thinking about it, turning the idea over in his head. "Well. If you like. For a little while. You can go through the conference forms."

"I can do that." 

Arthur grabs his tablet and teaching things, walks down to the main office with Merlin, and then continues onto his classroom and the rest of his work day.

*

Because Arthur is actually the ridiculous one in this relationship, he spends the whole time Merlin's teaching his Tuesday morning class organizing all the forms and reservations and letters for the undergraduate conference. He has two neat piles on Merlin's desk and one folder (with three subfolders) on his computer desktop when Merlin comes back from teaching. 

"Oh." Arthur frowns from where he's still sitting behind Merlin's desk. "You look--"

"--ugh, I know. My students already let me know how awful I look. Told you I had a cold," he mutters and rubs his nose into his handkerchief. "I haven't used my computer yet today, so you're probably safe." 

"Do you think I'm really worried about that," Arthur says, and finds that, no, he's really not. If he's going to catch Merlin's cold, well, he's going to catch it and that will be that. They've spent enough time together already that it's either going to happen or it won't. "You really need to get some rest. Anyway, you don't look that bad today. You looked a lot more tired yesterday."

"I think I slept twelve hours last night. Now I'm ..." He waves a hand in front of his face. "A mess." 

Red-nosed and watery-eyed and croaky-voiced. Arthur keeps the thought to himself; he finds it a bit endearing how the cold seems to have overwhelmed Merlin all at once. He gets up from Merlin's chair, though he's half-tempted to pull Merlin down into his lap. 

That would definitely not be work appropriate. He'll wait until later, at his own flat or Merlin's, and maybe fuss at him a bit with soup and hot tea. Even with the twelve hours of sleep last night, he looks like needs more rest to get over his late summer cold. 

"Do you want me to get you anything before I go to the gym? Tea or juice?"

"I'd rather have coffee, but, no, I'm fine."

"Don't have coffee." Arthur leans in to kiss Merlin before Merlin sits down at his desk. "And text me when you're done tonight, alright?"

"Don't fuss," Merlin says, and there's that rough edge to his voice that tells Arthur's he's not being short with him, that he's ill and worn out with it all. 

When he doesn't hear from Merlin all day, Arthur decides Merlin can be as short with him as he likes and texts Merlin himself a few minutes after nine o'clock.

> Tell me you went home from work, at least. You're not still sniffling your way through endless files, are you?

A few minutes pass, then Arthur gets a picture of a spread of file folders, Bailey, and a box of Kleenex on Merlin's sofa.

> Brought work with me, but haven't done much of it. Fell asleep after I got home from seminar around 7.30pm and have been slothful since then.

Arthur tries to tell Merlin to go sleep in bed and not on the sofa, and tries to tell him to sleep in tomorrow morning, but he either gets one word replies or none at all. He gives up around ten-thirty, when he's too tired to stay awake himself, and sends Merlin a quick good night. That, at least, gets him a good-night in return.

*

Merlin's not at work when Arthur gets in to teach his nine and ten o'clock classes, though he does show up for the undergraduate committee meeting at noon. He looks less bleary, though he's still red-nosed and his voice has gone low and rough with the cold. He only has a few minutes to talk to Arthur, but they make plans to get coffee after Arthur's afternoon class and office hours.

"You," Arthur says as he places a cup of decaf coffee in front of Merlin and one of tea in front of his own seat outside the cafe a few streets away from campus, "are the worst sick person." 

"Am I?" Merlin hugs his coffee cup closer. Though it's not yet October, the afternoons are getting cooler and shorter. "No, you're right, I probably am." 

"You could've at least let me fuss at you over text." 

"I hate it when I have a cold and feel totally... overcome with it all. Sorry," Merlin says. "I didn't think you'd really want to make a fuss over a stuffy nose and sore throat."

"Well. Not a fuss, just..." Arthur shrugs. He feels embarrassed now, and that he ought to have known Merlin would have rather been left alone. "Look, it's stupid--"

"No, no, it's not."

Arthur stares down at his cup. Black tea, no sugar, milk. His usual. It's comforting, the way having Merlin up in his office at the end of the day for a few minutes has come to be comforting, too. Or the way getting a good morning text or a picture from the dog park has also come to be comforting. 

_Too soon_ , he thinks. This is what's come too soon: the depth of his feelings. 

"Hey," Merlin says. He reaches over to touch the top of Arthur's hand. "What is it?"

Arthur gives another shrug. "Next time, you can... All you have to do is tell me if you want to be left alone, yeah? I won't bother you." 

Merlin pets Arthur's hand lightly. He has to turn away to cough into his sleeve, and then sniffle a few times, but he turns back and touches Arthur's hand again. "I will. And it's not really that," he says. "This is-- this is the part for me, where it's been awhile. I'm used to pushing through on my own. Can't remember being fussed at much at all, last time, with my last... You know." 

This time Arthur gives a small nod of understanding. "I won't smother you with attention, I promise." 

Laughing makes Merlin cough again, and he takes a drink from his coffee while it's still warm to calm his throat. "Maybe I need some smothering. We'll work it out, Arthur," Merlin says. "You can fuss at me sometimes when I'm ill, and I'll actually tell you when I'm not in the mood for fussing. Which is only fair, considering how grouchy you are when you get ill." 

"I am not."

"Oh, you are. You were awful when you had that case of sinusitis a couple years ago. I think your students were scared to talk to you." 

"You don't even remember that." Arthur frowns when Merlin peers at him over his coffee cup. "Oh god, you do."

Merlin's foot nudges Arthur's under the table. "My office was two doors down from yours that year. It was really cold that week, and raining, and you still came in miserable and congested and taught three classes." 

Arthur presses his foot against Merlin's. "Oh. You weren't single then."

Merlin shakes his head. "But I probably should've been. Wish I had been," he adds, and there's more warmth than regret in his smile. "Finish your tea. Then you can go buy me a tea with lemon and honey, drive me home, and take my dog for a walk. I'm exhausted," he adds. 

"You're starting to look like it." 

Merlin accepts the huge cup of hot tea Arthur brings him, holds Arthur's hand as they drive back to his house, and stays curled up on the sofa while Arthur plays with Bailey in the backyard. 

He makes Merlin sandwiches and soup for dinner, eats curled up with Merlin on the sofa, and feels the gentle tug of their lives settling in alongside each other's.

**Author's Note:**

> A [playlist of late summer songs](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLS_Dh70d7iEe0P5INZWAOnTbHsJl0YiPV) for these boys.


End file.
